


Mirror, Mirror

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, None - Freeform, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair reflects by himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror, Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a sex block. I can _not_ write a decent sex scene for the story I'm currently working on, so I decided to take them on one at a time. It turned out pretty well, don't you think? And yes, that means Jim is probably next. Then, hopefully, I can finish the one currently languishing on my zip disk. 
> 
> Grateful thanks to Julie, the best beta on this side of the Mississipi!

## Mirror, Mirror

by FireHorse

Author's disclaimer: Not mine, but we all knew that. Praise, comments, constructive criticism welcome; flames will be taken camping and gleefully used to toast marshmallows.

* * *

Blair opened the door to the loft, tossed his keys in the basket and breathed a sigh of relief that Jim wasn't home yet. He hadn't expected him to be home; didn't, in fact, expect him to be home for another few hours. When Blair had heard that he'd traded shifts with Dennison, and would be working the second shift today, he'd made plans. 

It had been too long, Blair thought to himself. Way too long, and now that he had the time, he was going to enjoy it. Stripping as he went, he winged his clothes through the door into his room and then continued on to the bathroom. Running the shower hot, he shampooed, soaped up and rinsed, lingering, touching, but not really trying. Gently stroking his half-hard cock, he enjoyed the sensation of growing urgency, then stopped. It had been so long since he'd had a chance to do it right that he really didn't want to get too revved up now. He rinsed one final time, then shut off the water and stepped out. 

After he'd dried himself off, he draped the towel around his neck and headed for his room. Carefully, he laid the towel out on the end of his bed, then pulled the futon off the frame, so that a foot or so of the slatted frame was showing. He knew from previous practice that to do all this now made it that much better later. Rummaging in his nightstand drawer, he finally came up with two bottles of lube, and tossed them on the towel, too. 

Blair looked around. Towel, check. Lube, check. Mattress, check. Everything was ready. So was he. 

He moved to stand in front of the mirror over his dresser, contemplating his reflection. He was good looking, and he knew it. He didn't quite believe it, but he'd heard it from enough other people that he knew it. Curly brown hair, grown longer than his shoulders, tickling down his back. Big blue eyes that got him both into and out of trouble. A strong, masculine face, currently with a heavy beard shadow. He was so glad he'd grown out of the gawky, geeky stage, even if he still sounded like a geek once in a while. 

He brought his hands up and threaded them through his hair, gently pulling, rubbing his scalp, enjoying the raw-silk feel of the curls brushing his shoulder blades. Slowly, slowly his hands slid down and the pads of his fingers brushed at the sensitive skin behind his ears, on the sides of his neck, raising goose bumps. Shivering slightly at the sensation, he did it again, and again. His cock was completely hard now, and starting to throb pleasantly. 

Looking in the mirror again, he continued with his catalog. Firm chest, shoulders wider than expected, flat belly, all covered in a thick mat of dark springy hair. His fingers drifted through the hair on his chest, and encountered dusky nipples, already peaked in anticipation. Eyes closing, he toyed with the peaks, breath coming faster as he tugged gently on the twisted silver ring threading delicately through his left nipple. Given the right circumstances, he could come from that alone, but that wasn't what he wanted, so, reluctantly, he let go, and his fingers continued their meandering path down his belly. 

In the mirror, he watched in fascination as the flush of arousal stained his skin, mottling his chest and rising into his face. No matter how many times he did this, he still got a kick out of it. 

The first time he'd done this in front of a mirror wasn't intentional, but it had been the hottest solo sex he'd ever had. Like all guys, he could jack off in the shower, but this was still his favorite way, when he had the time to indulge. He was a sensualist. He liked sex. Who was he kidding? He loved sex, but he loved all the preliminaries just as much. The getting-to-orgasm part was every bit as good as the orgasm itself, or could be, if you were willing to take the time and do it right. He was willing. 

With deliberate purpose, he ran his hands through his hair again, stroking behind his ears, down his neck, tweaking his nipples, running one thumbnail down the narrow trail of hair that lead from his navel. Stroking back up, he tugged at the ring in his navel, twin to the one in his nipple. It provided nearly the same breathless sensation as the other one did. He lingered, imagining an unseen lover, tugging on it with his teeth, the finger dipping briefly becoming the tongue of the same unseen man. 

He shuddered at the sensation, and slid his hands down his belly, ruffling the hair at the edge of his pubis. Flattening his hands, he ran them slowly down his thighs, and then trailed just the fingertips up the inside, tracing around his balls and combing up through the hair. 

Loosely gripping the base of his cock with both hands, he paused. The man in the mirror was gorgeous. Hair in wild disarray, smoky blue eyes hazy with passion, a brilliant flush mottling his chest and cheeks. His nipples were peaked and darkened, and his cock was a dark rose shaft rising from his hands. He tightened his grip, watching in the mirror as his doubled fist stroked the length of his cock once and returned to the base. The cock in the mirror twitched, and a small pearl of moisture appeared at the tip. Another stroke, and the pearl grew larger and dripped over the edge of the flared head. The shudder this time weakened his knees, and Blair decided it was time to move on to phase two. 

He picked up the bottle of cinnamon lube and squeezed some carefully onto his fingers. He circled his nipples with it, hissing in pleasure as the cinnamon warmed and tingled on his already sensitive skin. Squeezing out some more, he painted stripes across his ribs, down his belly and thighs, and rubbed a very little bit into the tight soft skin of his balls. He capped the bottle, then tossed it on his dresser. 

Straightening the towel, he climbed onto the bed. The man in the mirror knelt on the towel, with his feet hanging off the mattress and tucked neatly between the slats of the bed frame, still facing the mirror. The second tube of lube went onto the towel in front of Blair, where it would be reachable when he wanted it. 

He settled back, sitting on his feet, and ran his hands through his hair and down his body again. This time, he gripped his cock more tightly, and stroked harder, but just a little faster. He liked it tight and slow, liked hanging on the edge of orgasm for as long as he could. He continued stroking, lost in the haze of sensation. When his hips started thrusting up of their own accord, he knew it was time to move on. 

With one hand still stroking, the other hand dropped down, fingertip tracing patterns on his balls, then dipping behind. There was a place, soft and hairless...oooh. Yeah, right there. It had been his first male lover that showed him that spot. Pressing up into it, he felt his cock throb and tighten. This was going to be good. 

Letting go, for now, he popped the top of the KY tube open and squeezed some into his hand, then tucked the flat end under his knee, a little trick he had learned that meant he only had to use one hand when things were getting good. The hand on his cock squeezed rhythmically, not really stroking, just keeping things going. 

Reaching behind his balls again, he pressed on the spot, and then continued on to stroke around the pucker that guarded the entrance to his body. With the now-warm lube, he rubbed harder, working some of the lube inside himself. Rising up on his knees and reaching around from behind, he slid one finger in completely, his body opening in welcome. Still stroking his cock, he fucked himself with his finger, bringing himself to the edge of orgasm, then backing down. 

Leaning on the tube of KY, he squirted more lube into his hand and went back to both hands on his cock. His grip was almost painfully tight. He stroked slowly up and down, his cock dripping steadily, the flaring head a dark plum. 

Reaching around again, he slid one finger into himself, then two. With two, he could reach his prostate...god, yeah, like that, and the bright sparks of pleasure swirled through him, coalescing in the small of his back, pooling in his groin, letting him know that it wouldn't be long now, that there would be no more holding back. 

The unseen lover was back, buried deep in his ass, stroking his cock. Blair rocked heavily onto his fingers, thrusting up into the slick grip of his fist, as his unseen, unknown lover ignited more sparks from deep within. 

Blair looked at himself in the mirror. This was always the best part; wild and flushed, this close to orgasm, he looked like a primeval Puck, or a satyr. A quiet corner of his mind snickered at him and told him a satyr's tail would get in the way of what he liked best, but he ignored it. 

He could feel the rush of orgasm coiling in his gut as his imaginary lover stroked deeper into him. Lost in the gathering storm, he never heard his bedroom door open, until a shocked sound made him open his eyes. Jim was there, crystal blue eyes wide and watching. Behind him, in the mirror, was Blair, head thrown back, face flushed, corded muscles of his neck standing out in sharp relief. 

The unseen lover in Blair's mind was suddenly, shockingly visible, and he wore Jim's face. It was Jim's cock buried in him, Jim's big hands stroking him into oblivion. Abruptly, he was there, over the edge. With a deep, surprised "Jim!" he felt himself explode, fragment, the pieces whirling away in a flood of pleasure. 

When he came back to himself, collapsed in a sated heap, he was aware of two things. He had never come so good before in his life; not by himself and not with anybody else. And Jim was gone. He was no longer standing in the doorway, watching. As Blair tried to figure out what, if anything to do next, he toppled away, into sleep. 

* * *

End

 


End file.
